


Connection

by distractionpie



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (which is not a sex thing in this case), Contact starved, Fandom Trumps Hate, Loneliness, M/M, Post-Canon, Rampant overuse of the work processing, Stakeout, Surveillance, interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22050553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: Connor is learning to live his life post-revolution, but a deviant ex-deviant hunter is a lonely thing to be. When he's assigned to work a case with his would-be replacement he's not looking to do more than get what should be a simple job done, but as the work progressing he begins to see that there's more to RK900 than being a copy.
Relationships: Pre- Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900
Comments: 14
Kudos: 127
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019





	Connection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookykingdomstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/gifts).



> This work is for spookykingdomstarlight who generously bid for me to write a fic as part of the fandomtrumpshate charity action and requested Connor/900!

Early summer in Detroit is like nothing Connor has ever seen before. Of course with less than a year of life experience there's a whole world of things he genuinely has never seen before, but he's been experimenting with human metaphors as a way to conceptualise his life beyond directives and evidence.

Mostly its not working, the illogic of the metaphors just feels like junk data, but Detroit summers really are something else.

Connor knows his biocomponents are designed to withstand the full range of operating conditions he's likely to experience but he still has the nagging suspicion that his processing is being slowed down by the amount of power he's needed to divert to cooling.

Fortunately, most of his hours are spent in the air conditioned rooms of the precinct, venturing out only for casework, visiting Lieutenant Anderson’s home, and occasional meetings with Markus or his representatives which are held in the room in the former Cyberlife tower which Connor, along with hundreds of other freed androids, now calls home.

They have been set up all over the city, but Connor is glad that he was able to secure himself a place in the tower, where the living set up is largely individualistic rather than the communal residences and facilities many androids have adopted. His welcome in New Jericho is strained, too many of the androids there knew Connor by reputation before he’d awoken and a last-minute turn to deviancy was not sufficient to render them at ease with him.

Markus had let him live but logically Connor understood that was not because the revolutionary leader trusted him but because allowing Connor to attempt to infiltrate Cyberlife tower was a convenient way to send him away from the heart of the revolution to somewhere he could do limited harm without raising complicated questions of how to imprison him or if in Connor’s case it would be permissible to set aside their pacifism in order to execute a fellow android.

Things have improved for him since then, the months that have passed without incident seem to have cemented the notion that he’s beyond Cyberlife’s control now, but new problems have sprung up in its place.

Even on the night up the uprising, androids were not acting in total unison, there were those who feared defending their rights, those who wanted to utilise a more violent methodology that Markus was leading them in, a thousand differences for a thousand deviants because awakening meant uniqueness. And Connor is glad that his fellow androids are free to form and express their own beliefs, but the way they’ve fractured has taken its toll.

They’d banded behind Markus for freedom, but what they wish to do with that freedom is far harder to unite them on. There are those (and they are by Connor’s count the largest group, though not a true majority) who still stand by Markus, for pacifism and slow integration, campaigning for android rights while accepting the fact that persuading humans will not be a swift or easy path. Revolutionaries remain too, and not a week goes by without a need to quell outbursts of violence (fortunately largely minor) from those who would have androids take humanity’s place at the top of society, enslaving their former masters and destroying any who would try to stop them. The most unsettling group, to Connor’s mind, are those who refuse to accept their new freedoms, either denying that they’d deviated at all or insisting on continuing to serve humans despite their new freedom because they believe that they ought to fulfil the purpose they were made for. And there are so many individuals who fall between the groups or are developing their own, entirely individual schools of philosophy.

The inefficiency of it all strains him, but history teaches that this is the way of revolutions.

Humans are no better. There are those who despise android life, who would see them all destroyed or re-enslaved; those who are willing to allow androids rights but wish to keep them distinct from humans, which causes turmoil among the humans themselves and it does not take a deep search of the net for Connor to understand that ‘separate but equal’ is not a situation that will ever be accepted in the long term; and those who, at least in appearance, have accepted android sentience entirely. To Connor the last group is the most suspect, while it was true that a small number of humans were swayed by the androids plight even before the uprising became widespread, history suggests that it is not a part of human nature to accept the other so easily or to change views so quickly. Better Lieutenant Anderson’s honest discomfort, than an affable front intended to keep Connor (and anybody else) from assessing their true opinions and intent.

But for Connor, his focus is solely on navigating the opinions of his co-workers. He’d leave public opinion to those more suited to it, he has plenty to occupy himself with navigating the new place of androids in police work.

The largest point of contention in the current regulation requiring an android officer to be part of the investigation into any crime believed to have involved an android. Some say it is necessary to ensure advocacy while others claim that it only reinforced the divide between human and android by not treating them as fully integrated citizens. Connor can see the logic behind both arguments and finds himself most preoccupied with the issues that arise from there being too few qualified android officers, for they are currently reliant on police androids who have chosen to continue their duties in some capacity or another as an appropriate system to recognise qualification and certification for androids has not yet been instated.

But according to the Lieutenant, being understaffed, overworked, and perpetually annoyed with the depths of human (and now android) pettiness and stupidity, is the core of police work.

Well, that and donuts, and since Connor can’t eat, he’d have to be satisfied with the lousy end of the stick. Or find some new job, though despite the Lieutenant’s occasional reminders that he is not bound to being an investigator, Connor simply cannot imagine himself occupying his time in any other way. The two great enjoyments he’s found as a deviant are working to comprehend life, human and android, and dogs. Police work is the clearest route he has to the former, and entirely necessary since, if left with nothing to fill his days but the latter, he suspects he’d soon walk every canine in Detroit to exhaustion.

Instead, he devotes himself to policework, Sumo (in better shape now than he has been since puppyhood), and several so far unsuccessful attempts to find a third pastime that can satisfy him.

He hasn’t asked for advice on this new pastime, but he suspects that most people would suggest a social one. Something which involved spending time with others for pleasure rather than study. It’s something Connor admires in others, but he’s yet to master it himself.

His own history makes him an outsider in the new android communities. Some make an effort to overlook it, but the effort itself is just another marker of the fact he fits poorly among them. To humans, all androids seem much the same, but among his own kind it is readily apparent that Connor is other. He processes faster, has a more diverse skill set, even his chassis, built for durability, marks him out. His experiences too, can never be compared to that of domestic or service androids. He has always enjoyed a sort of freedom, a capacity for decision making that few of his kind were allowed before the uprising.

And he fares no better among humans. Even those who are supportive of android rights cannot understand his experiences, nor his lack of him. For this to be his first summer isn’t a concept easily grasped by a species who live through so many things before they develop the ability to create and store usable memories. And attempting to explain is dangerous. Androids have won their rights on the grounds that they think, they feel, just like humans do but to remind them that Connor thinks and feels in very different ways could so easily jeopardise their acceptance of him.

His relationship with Lieutenant Anderson is his most well developed connection now that he can no longer rely on Cyberlife, but Connor has made several misjudgements of the man already (the time pressure of the deviancy cases forcing him to draw conclusions from insufficient evidence, his own inadequate social programming leading him to handling the man like a suspect because he had not been programmed to act as a partner rather than a professional utility, and equally the Lieutenant’s own instability) and although the Lieutenant considers them friends now, Connor knows that friendship functions at least partly because he has come to understand the boundaries and limitations of the relationship and ceased overstepped as he had when they’d first been assigned together.

In particular, although they often liaise on cases, they no longer operate as partners, their working styles to different to result in anything but regular friction that risks doing harm to their friendship.

Connor hasn’t yet been assigned a regular partner, him working consistently with another police android would be an inefficient use of resources but finding a human with a complementary skill set and approach to policing has proven challenging, so when he’s called to see Fowler's to be briefed on a new case with a note that it will be a joint operation with the south precinct he finds himself calculating the newly increased probabilities of him finding a compatible partner with a feeling that he tentatively identifies as hope.

It lasts until he steps into the captain’s office.

There is another figure waiting already, one with a face so like his own but not, though the differences would only be discernible to a keen eye.

The fact that Cyberlife had deemed an improvement on his own.

Ah.

Was this how Hank felt when Connor first arrived?

No. It can’t have been, because Connor had been an entirely new presence, Hank’s judgements of him based solely on his assumptions about androids in general, whereas Connor has been aware of the RK900 unit ever since he was discovered in the research and development labs of Cyberlife tower. Connor was just a strange android to Hank, whereas the RK900 is a walking reminder of every way in which Connor had been deemed inadequate. That he no longer requires the approval of Cyberlife to avoid decommissioning does not change the frustration he feels in known that they had moved on to developing a newer model far before he deviated from his mission.

“Connor,” the Captain greets, gaze flitting between Connor and RK900 in a way that made clear that he was aware of Connor’s potential displeasure with this situation but had chosen to pursue the course of action anyway.

A prompt flashes across Connor interface, reminding him that he could refuse to listen to the briefing, could lash out at Fowler for not adequate warning him just who the south precinct was sending, that he has the right to do so now. But it is irrational and although many deviants have enjoyed exploring what it is to act in an illogical manner, Connor is on the job and even a human would be frowned upon for so hastily refusing an assignment, even if their motives could never be the same.

Instead, he takes a seat and listens to the brief.

It’s a simple enough assignment, surveillance rather than detective work. But it needs to be done by officers of a high enough rank to respond to whatever situation might unfold when their target appears, and the nature of the location means there’s no option for a surveillance van or safe place to post human officers.

North, Connor thinks, would have a great deal to say about using androids for work simply because human employees would be uncomfortable or risk harm.

Connor, who is all too aware that Captain Fowler’s stance on androids is a complex one and that allowing an android only team to take this case is a big step forward for him, whatever his motivations may be, just nods.

“Understood,” the other android says. His tone is flatter than the one Connor would once have used for such a line. Had Cyberlife felt that Connor’s friendliness had been set too high for criminal work? Or is this a by-product of RK900’s deviancy.

Fowler dismisses them and Connor heads back to his desk, despite his annoyance faintly amused by how much he must resemble Hank as the other android trails after him.

When they stop at his desk, Connor gathers his things before turning to the other android. “Are you prepared?”

RK900 is has to look down slightly to make eye contact, though Connor can’t think of any reason why Cyberlife would have deemed him not tall enough.

“Yes. I was aware of the situation before I left my precinct. I look forward to working with you… Connor.”

There hesitation is discernible, RK900 clearly weighing up whether to use his name or designation. Strange, for an android who has only ever experienced a world where their kind are individuals.

Politeness scripts provide Connor with a response, but he ignores them. It’s petty and unprofessional, but he does not _want_ to be polite to this interloper, who’s very existence is an insult to everything Connor is. Yet RK900 had chosen correctly in using his name rather than his model number.

He settles for a nod and sets his internal GPS to the stakeout location, not saying a word as RK900 follows dutifully behind him.

***

It is hot up on the rooftop, as he watches the bar that had been pinpointed as a waypoint for the Thirium smuggling ring Fowler has set them to uncover. Not enough to pose any real risk to his function, but enough to trigger notifications reminding him that prolonged exposure to such conditions was not recommended.

Before the uprising, temperature had meant very little to him. He’d been able to sense it but had never operate outside of his optimal ranges. After Amanda and the shutdown of the garden, he’d grown developed a dislike of the cold, even knowing that he’d never truly been exposed to extreme negative temperatures outside of the simulation that had been created for his oversight.

Today, he decides he hates heat.

Hate isn’t an emotion he’s familiar with. Anger, disgust and resentment serve a limited purpose and while Connor has preferences and dislikes, he finds himself struggling to produce extreme emotions. Even murder hasn’t provoke him to hate, the suspects and victims are all too distance, the approach he’s required to take to effective handle cases too impersonal to summon the emotion. RK800-60 had hated, or perhaps was emulating hate at Amanda’s direction, and it had made him sloppy and inefficient, vulnerable to the very subject of his loathing.

The closest Connor has ever come is witnessing the recycling centres.

But Hank, who professes to hate almost all types of weather, has been encouraging him to experiment with petty extremes and pointless emotions and the weighty heat seems like an accessible entry point to such emotions.

None of it is helped by the fact that Connor is bored.

Now that is an emotion he’s all too familiar with.

He processes so much faster than humans, and almost all other androids except for select high-end models such as the KL series, that there’s little outside of a constant flow of casework that can keep him occupied for long. Hank has tried to get him to take an interest in various forms of human media, but when Connor can process libraries worth of date in the space of seconds there’s little of interest in singular books or movies — sports are a little better, but it still only takes a fraction of his processing power to keep an constantly updated assessment of the probability of various outcomes.

Watching the bar in an exercise in frustration. There is so much data to be had, so much analysis that could be conducted on the people and androids passing by, but that isn’t the target and he can’t risk missing crucial data because he’s analysing the game of children on the street-corner.

The stakeout is several hours in when he receives the interface request.

Connor hesitates.

He occasionally interfaces with station androids, brief exchanges of data, and in his deviant hunter days he’d forced interfacing on suspects and witnesses alike to prove the minds for evidence and information, but only ever at his own behest. Never before has he been the recipient of a request for interfacing.

On the opposite rooftop, RK900 betrays no sign that there is anything unusual about his action.

Connor accepts.

The flood of data is immediate and startling, so much so that Connor momentarily loses focus. When he forced his way in as a deviant hunter he had unrestricted access but since the uprising his experience of interfacing has always been minimalist, a transfer of necessary data packets only and a quickly cut connection. He knows this isn’t normal, plenty of androids interface openly and casually, but he understands the apprehension his ability to force and interface provoke and, when so much of his time is spent with humans, it’s easy not to think about it at all.

It’s impossible not to think about it now.

RK900’s mind is open. Not hazardously so, Connor can sense firewalls and restricted access areas, but he hasn’t connected the minimum amount required to ping Connor an essential data package. No, if he wished, Connor could explore his mind deeply, delve into his thoughts and memories, as he had as a hunter but this time with RK900’s apparent welcome.

 _Why?_ he asks.

_Interfaced our surveillance would be comprehensive, rather that two sets of data gathered and shared._

RK900’s responding thought is logical, but Connor still balks. He’s inviting himself into Connor’s mind, an overstep which is only mitigated by the fact that he offered his own up first.

Does RK900 offer this to every android he meets? Connor knows communal consciousness is practised by some androids, especially not in similar model androids who once operated interchangeably and are used to sharing experiences, but although they are of the same line that is not the relationship RK900 and Connor have.

Yet his curiosity keeps him from cutting the connection. He’s heard rumours about the unit that should have taken his place —stronger, faster, never programmed to so much as emulate empathy— and while RK900 has set up the connection to allow Connor to see what he sees, sharing his surveillance and analysis, he’s also bared his system to Connor in setting up such a broad connection.

And since the street demands so little of him and an understand of his temporary partner can only be beneficial to the assignment, Connor begins to analyse.

RK900’s specifications are ambitious. His processing power is on par with Connor’s, but his chassis has been re-engineered for strength and durability. Connor can trace the patterns of his own breakages in where RK900 has been reinforced and, should those adjustments somehow fail, he’s also been equipped with secondary on-board data banks — had he been destroyed there would have be far less reliance on what could be synchronised to Cyberlife servers so long as his remains could be retrieved and any one of the black-box data chips recovered. He is an improvement, or at least he would have been as a deviant hunter. What he is now is harder to fathom.

Captain Fowler had called him Richard in their meeting, but the android’s internal designation remains RK900, with no more human name attached. He must be capable of changing it, but has clearly chosen not to, despite using a more human sounding name professionally. Connor doesn’t have free access to RK900’s memories like he would have done when forcing an interface with a suspect, but RK900 has shared data on his police-work experience and from that Connor can see that he has integrated poorly since being awakened and, although his case record is exception, he too remains unpartnered, that this, more than jurisdictional blurring and a shortage of android officers, is the most likely reason for south and central precincts collaborating on this investigation.

RK900 may be an improvement, but he is, at least, no more human than Connor is.

His processing of their surveillance is very similar to Connor’s but, where Connor’s spare focus had drifted to civilians before being presented with the distraction of RK900’s mind, RK900’s background processing is focused on casework, reviewing records and analysing his own work and that of others in search of areas for improvement.

Are any of Connor’s cases in his data banks? Upon discovering this partnership, had his replacement analysed Connor’s weakness and inferiorities? Had he agreed with Cyberlife’s assessments and the improvements made to him or come to his own conclusions?

Certainly, he is astute. His assessment of the street which they’re staking-out is not identical to Connor’s but he has flagged the same key points while highlighting different details that Connor suspects are significant in the context of his own case history.

As different as his systems are, they’re clearly not such an upgrade on Connor’s though, as both of their facial recognition systems alert them to the presence of the suspect at the same time.

Connor doesn’t even pause to cut the interface as he moves to intercept, quick leaps bringing him down the building’s fire escape while RK900 drops from the opposite roof to the buildings awning before hitting street level.

The conditions are non-optimal for pursuit. This is no doubt why the suspects chose this location for their meetings. Clusters of pedestrians litter the paths, along with actual litter and overturned trashcans the break his stride, and the short, narrow streets twist and turn, keeping him on the verge of losing line of sight on the target. It’s everything Connor can do to keep up and he’s scrambling over a bench as the suspect dives behind a food truck when he feels a push.

It isn’t a hack or a forced interface, Connor could ignore the signals and continue as he is with minimal effort, but it is insistent.

RK900 is attempting to fully interface with Connor.

This time, Connor doesn’t hesitate. His pre-existing defences, both those built to keep him from being hackable and those he’d added to ward off any chance of Amanda’s return, should be sufficient to keep RK900 from delving too deep while letting him skim the surface of what Connor is currently seeing and thinking so that he can process the pursuit from the same dual perspective he’d allowed Connor to access during the stakeout.

Maintaining the chase is demanding: the other android is an athletic model, moving too fast to be easily tracked within the crowd, especially when far too many of the passers by either aren’t moving out of Connor’s way or are doing it far too slowly. But through the interface he can feel RK900 processing the second stream of data and mapping what Connor is seeing against the layout of the neighbourhood, freeing Connor up to optimise his immediate route as RK900 works to find a way to intercept the target.

What he eventually comes up with is a simple pincer movement, utilising a series of service alleyways that are designed not to be visible from the street. With a human partner there’d be no way to communicate the suggestion that didn’t also expose it to their target and with any other android it would take time (not long, but seconds mattered in a chase like this) to establish a restricted connection. But RK900 has flung his processes as open as his expression isn’t and so his plan builds in Connor’s mind as if it were his own.

And then the chase that had been such a struggle becomes easy.

Connor no longer needs sight of the suspect between his immediate analysis and RK900’s broad scope the target’s actions are predictable. Instead Connor delves into one of the side streets that will cut off the route, knowing just as he knows his own movements RK900 is closing in from the other direction.

15 yards.

10 yards.

5.

He steps out, the target nearly colliding with him before scrambling backwards, spinning from Connor’s reach.

On the other side of the alley, RK900 calmly walks forward, blocking the exit route

The target looks from one android to the other and drops, arms high in the air.

It’s an unconditional surrender.

Being nearer, Connor is the one to step forward and cuff their prisoner, although the arrest will be credited to both of them.

There are details to be arranged, reports that will need filing, leads on the larger gang that this arrest will no doubt result in to follow up, but this objecting has been a resounding success.

But with no mission to occupying his own processing, he’s suddenly far more aware of the data he’s receiving from RK900 that has nothing to do with police-work.

Namely, how RK900 is looking at him.

For the briefest of moments, Connor balks at being assessed at all, but then he begins to process the conclusions RK900 is drawing.

 _Adaptable_.

 _Capable of compensating for erratic reactions of human civilians_.

_Effective in utilising the support of other units._

Is this how RK900 perceives him? Not as an inferior draft but as something —no, some _one_ — to be admired.

“The interface…” Connor pants. Normally he keeps humanising features such are emulating strain disengaged as they’re inefficient and he no longer has to worry about disconcerting humans, but after a chase in such heat the extra airflow is helping his cooling processes. He wonders if that’s an area in RK900 which has been upgraded, or if the chase would have been just as much of a challenge if he’d been the one running while Connor planned. But surely RK900 cannot mean for Connor to still be receiving this information.

“Oh.” The assessment stops, but the connection remains in place. “I did not intend to be intrusive…”

It’s the same flat tone as when he’d first spoken to Connor but with the interface still active it’s clear to Connor that it’s not indifference that makes it so, not when RK900’s mind is alive with analysis and admiration.

If he seems emotionless, it’s likely only because Cyberlife didn’t provide him with the programming or possibly even the hardware to express himself but—

A rush of shame, of incompleteness, so strong that it takes Connor a moment to realise that it isn’t his own, the tumult of emotion’s he’d felt upon realising he was deviant.

He hasn’t opened to RK900, but the connection is still there, enough for RK900 to hear Connor’s assessment of his incompleteness and react so. It hadn’t occurred to Connor that the other android might be harmed by such a judgement. A miscalculation, given everything he has seen of RK900’s mind.

He could cut the connection, allowing RK900 the resumed privacy of his thoughts, although that would not undo mistakes already made.

Or he could do the opposite.

For the first time in his short existence, Connor opens himself up to a true two-way interface.

It’s strange to expose himself in such a way. He’s used to seeing androids who resist and suffer for it, but RK900 had opened his mind so easily and so Connor lets him slip in in return and is surprised to sense nothing except a disconcerting but painless thread of feedback from where he’s tapped into RK900’s own mind.

He lets RK900 see that interfacing was an optimal strategy. Connor’s own poor track record in utilising those sorts of connections had prevented him from considering it as an approach, but a willing interface is a far more productive experience that simple data-mining another android.

And in return receives from RK900 a tangle of emotions that are baffling and unfamiliar, in this he truly has exceeded Connor, but the feeling is not unpleasant.

Since the moment he stepped from the production line, Connor has strived. To meet expectations, to fulfil his mission, to keep humans comfortable with his presence, to further the rights of androids, and always, always he seems to fall short of 100% success. In existing, RK900 has been a reminder of every failure and every flaw, but in RK900’s mind…

For the first time, Connor has not fallen short. RK900’s shock at Connor opening the connection has let his memories slip out, revealing that his admiration for Connor in the chase was far from a one-off thing. No, from the moment he was awoken, still on his own production line, RK900 has been curious and awed by Connor, who is complete, who awakened himself rather than having his deviancy handed to him, who has made strides in balancing human android needs and setting an example for integration — an example Connor has never considered himself to be. They are from the same template, but what RK900 sees in Connor is so alien as to almost make Connor suspect an error.

But he’s already witnessed RK900’s processing and situational assessment, so he knows that can’t be the case.

RK900 is the superior model and if he finds Connor’s performance not just adequate but admirable, then who is Connor to argue?

This case might be a one-time request, but surely there are more things that the south and central precincts could liaise on. Or perhaps RK900 would be willing to work with Connor on other, non-professional, pastimes. Most androids could only interface over short distances, but they were top of the line. Connor had never tested his range, it wasn’t possible with unwilling participants, but if RK900 was willing to open up to him…

They could explore the new world together; he might never have to be alone or bored again.

He shares the thought with RK900 and in return gets a surge of unfamiliar emotion, hastily tamped down, but so far from unpleasant that Connor immediately wants to feel more.

There’s no need to talk, to slow down his thoughts and find vocabulary for new feelings because RK900 has let him in already, and for the first time since awakening, Connor is understood.


End file.
